


Sweet Orchid

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Flowers won't grow in artificial light. (08/16/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

That day she found three white flowers outside her quarters. Cymbidium blossoms, butterfly shaped. The inner cup of petals was speckled pink over faded yellow throats, but still a soft, elegant white. Since her grandmother had first pinned one in her hair the day her sister Kaori was born, she'd loved them.

They were planted in a ceramic pot. Inside she fretted over where to place them. The book table was always dark with shadow; there the striking beauty of its white petals would be lost.

She would have placed them next to the mirror in the shower and daydreamed in their reflection, but then she could only admire them during the short times she was primping.

Her dresser was too cluttered with books and clothes. It could never do them justice the way the windows would, if she could only find a place to put them in the path of starlight. Her mother had always cluttered her windowsills with plants-

Hoshi fell to her knees, nearly dropping her flowers.

Her mother was sick. She'd gotten the transmission late last night. The ensign on the night shift had said Starfleet had made it a priority to get the news to her. Hoshi was thankful they still remembered that there were real people out here, officers who had families and friends who they tried to keep close to them.

The orchids really were quite beautiful. They didn't matter. Hoshi thought she'd never felt so isolated and helpless. Her mother had in no way been the strongest or the toughest. She was soft, painfully fragile, delicate as glass-and that made her weak. This wouldn't be an ordinary, run of the mill illness. She'd be lucky to win her life back. Hoshi would be needed.

The tears she thought should be coming wouldn't fall. Space had numbed her. With no way to really reach out she was cut off, unable to do more than send best wishes through an artificial data stream that would arrive a day too late.

She wanted to crumple her flowers. For her mother, and the possibility that she might not live to see her daughter home again. For Trip and his sister, killed in the attack on Earth. For Malcolm's sister and brother-in-law, who'd nearly died a month ago in an accident and who were now undergoing painful rehabilitation, and for Malcolm's father who was battling a rare neurological disorder. For Travis, who never really knew where his family was or if they were okay. For Jon who had had to bury Porthos beneath alien soil six months ago.

Out here in the Delphi Expanse, they weren't able to touch or reassure the ones they needed back home, and it was changing them. Hoshi could remember the passion with which they had taken to the stars. It was all but gone now. It was replaced with helplessness, through an open communication channel hissing with static, which now laid claim to every cell of every body of every officer. She had seen it a few minutes ago, in the card of condolence the bridge crew had signed to accompany her orchids, and she could feel it in her bones.

Hoshi's knees were hurting from kneeling so long. Still she couldn't cry. At least she had kept the ability to see herself, sometimes.

* * *

She'd had to recruit a volunteer to help her. With the new expectations being placed on the warp core in the Expanse, Commander Tucker had very little time to give her, although she was certain if he'd been able to, he wouldn't have turned her down. Hoshi knew that if Trip had a soft spot for anything, it was her.

In the end she'd asked Lieutenant Reed, whom she knew could at least be counted on to work overtime if need be. Hoshi had never thought he'd put much into it, but he surprised her with his cultured perspective. The day they were to reveal their creation he tucked a fresh orchid blossom behind her ear, then flicked the switch.

It really hadn't taken much work at all. When she stood in the observation bay afterwards and pressed a white petal into the mold, Hoshi thought of her mother. The imprint was sent to a holographic projector hanging from the large round window that curved outward, similar to the star observatories on Earth. Spilling onto the darkened walls and floors was the imprint of her orchid blossom, casting a soft glow to the stars above. She hoped one of those stars was Earth.

Hoshi turned to thank Malcolm for his help but he'd left, chivalry being one of his hidden charms. She appreciated him for it, then knelt on the floor and wept for her mother.

* * *

Some time later she awoke in the night to an incoming transmission, deemed high-priority. Hoshi slid on a peach-coloured robe, a gift from the Sub-commander, then slid into the seat at her terminal prepared for the worst.

Instead she received the best.

Her mother had had surgery. The doctors expected her to make a full recovery.

She slept well that night. The next day she was able to speak with her father, and she asked him, when he next visited her mother in hospital, to bring her white Cymbidium blossoms, and to pin one behind her ear.

The rest of them, Hoshi told him, should be placed in the windowsill.


End file.
